The missing place of my heart is more jagged and unsymmetrical than you might imagine. It is not a perfect hole; instead, it dodges into random sections of my core, different emotions, various memories.

You angered me. You sent me into brooding fits, because you had that way of pointing out exactly what I was trying to hide. Nobody could read me like you. To them, I remain a mystery. To you, I was an open book.

When I immerse myself fully in your absence, I can’t help but to think I’m not doing it correctly. I want to flinch at your name. I want to vow that I’ll never care for another the way I cared for you; that you will always be my one and only. But I can’t.

You must understand: I will never replace you. But I can’t sit idly and wait to join you. I can’t live the rest of my life as a pale reflection of what it could be. You wouldn’t want me to. I will always love you, but I need to let you go.

This much is true, my darling; this I swear. I miss you, and I can’t take it back.